


deleted scene

by jesimiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (partially), Gen, Post-Episode: s15e20 Carry On, Screenplay/Script Format, anyway yeah finale coda EVIL version, i think he engineered a lot more than we knew about, like...he's GOD. come on., yeah i subscribe to the chuck won theory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:09:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29981280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesimiel/pseuds/jesimiel
Summary: (is the story over?)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 44





	deleted scene

**Author's Note:**

> based on [a post of mine](https://4x16.tumblr.com/post/645202350570684416/a-stinger-that-i-wouldve-loved-for-the-very-last) that did numbers for some reason. tumblr is [here](http://4x16.tumblr.com)

(is the story over?)

* * *

[We cut to the interior of a HOUSE, somewhere on Earth. We know that it is Earth—the strange blurry unreality of Heaven has cleared.]

[The house is comfortable, if a tad small and cluttered. It is clearly lived-in, most likely by a family with at least one child—there is a stick-figure drawing tacked on the refrigerator of a black-haired man, a brunette woman, and a small blonde girl. It is heart-wrenchingly reminiscent of JIMMY, AMELIA, and CLAIRE NOVAK, as seen in 04x20 _The Rapture_.]

[The house is not familiar, and yet it is.]

[Perhaps it is similar to the residence of BOBBY SINGER, as seen in 04x02 _Are You There, God? It’s Me, Dean Winchester_ , or that of BECKY ROSEN, as seen in 15x04 _Atomic Monsters_. Perhaps it is similar to that of KATE and ADAM MILLIGAN, as seen in 04x19 _Jump the Shark_ , or that of LISA and BEN BRAEDEN, as seen in 06x20 _The Man Who Would Be King_. Perhaps we only think so, because this particular house is just so… normal.]

[It is both all of these and none of these at once, because the house does not exist. Or, rather, it exists _now_ , because it was very recently created with several of these locations in mind.]

* * *

(where are we right now? 

earth, it seems. nowhere particular on earth—somewhere in america, maybe. somewhere in the north. we never see the exterior of this house that we’re in, because we don’t need to, but some of the windows are open, and we can see outside.

a porch and a large yard. a copse of oak trees just visible—one of them has a tire swing tied to the thickest branch. it sways lazily in a breeze that we don’t feel.

doylistically speaking, this is actually jensen ackles’ house. there’s a photo of danneel ackles in the very distance, in the little sliver of the living room that we can just barely see, that the set directors have forgotten to remove from the shot. 

watsonially speaking, though, this is just a house—it doesn’t really matter whose.)

* * *

[We enter the dining room. It is painted soft yellow, and has a few windows with open plantation shutters letting bright beams of summer sunlight into the room. The dining table is a bit cluttered, miscellaneous mail and school assignments and a stray place mat littering its surface.]

[There is an open laptop perched on the far end of the table, obscuring our view of whoever is sitting in front of it.]

* * *

(it’s a metaphor, see?)

* * *

[We cut to a close-up shot of the computer’s keyboard, complete with a pair of hands at it. The mostly-unseen TYPIST is working quickly, very quickly—the footage we’re seeing _must_ be doctored, because the speed the TYPIST is working at is impossible.]

[Their fingers blur with motion. The sound of clacking keys is so, so loud—it’s all we can hear.]

[The camera turns to face the computer screen. The reflection of the face of the TYPIST is not visible, but the screen is clear.]

[The TYPIST is working on a Google Document, or perhaps they’re using Microsoft Word. The shot is slightly out-of-focus, obscuring the full contents of the text file, though the names “Sam” and “Dean” are just barely visible.]

* * *

(sam and dean winchester, at this point, believe they have escaped their story. they are incorrect. 

whether this scene takes place before or after sam winchester dies and goes to heaven is unclear. it may take place before _dean_ winchester dies—it’s never stated either way.

it does, actually, but that isn’t really important anyhow. 

what’s important, right now, is that the angel castiel misses his son.)

* * *

[The camera spins again, facing the TYPIST’s chest, as though the computer’s webcam was the source of the footage. The TYPIST does not stop their work.]

[The TYPIST is noticeably extremely well-dressed. They’re in a fancy long-sleeved dress shirt that’s crisply ironed, done all the way up—clean and white, or maybe it’s powder blue—and they’re wearing a slim tie of black silk. Not a smudge mars their impeccable ensemble.]

[The camera begins to pan up, slowly, slowly. Building up to… something? Perhaps it has a sense of irony.]

[The sound of clacking keys gets, if possible, louder. Faster.]

* * *

(the thing that most people don’t realize about god is that he is, at his very core, basically just a souped-up angel. 

of course, there’s nuance to it—differences, a gray area and all of that. god and the darkness are as much of a parallel to michael and lucifer as they are a subversion of their story, and castiel was never really _god,_ as it were, though he may have thought himself as such. a soul is powerful, but every soul on earth _and_ in purgatory couldn’t compare to the grace of the _true_ god.

the point, though, is that as angels take vessels to walk the earth, so too can god.

it’s a bit of a complicated process. even an archangel can burn out a meat suit if it isn’t meant for them, proven by lucifer and raphael—can you _imagine_ what _god himself_ would do to an unsuitable vessel? 

the idea of a _true vessel_ is already sort of… nebulous and abstract, as dean winchester and adam milligan will surely tell you—and what a cosmic joke is that! the archangel cares less for the sword than for the sword’s half-brother—and the power required for the true vessel of _god_ is almost unfathomable.

generally, it’s only a prophet that has a soul bright and blessed enough to withstand the grace of god, and the soul of the prophet usually ends up getting cauterized anyway—such as that of the author chuck shurley, most recently, though the soul of kevin tran would have also been usable—but there are some exceptions, if a soul is sufficiently resilient or powerful.

as of this point in time, the most powerful being in the universe—with the exception of god, of course—bolstered by the stolen grace of two archangels as well as his own, would be… well. 

if you’re reading this, you surely know already.)

* * *

[The camera finishes panning up, and we finally see the TYPIST’s face. Their hair is perfectly combed, their eyes wide and blue, their expression blank and focused. It is familiar, but not, all at once.]

[The TYPIST is stunningly backlit, haloed by the afternoon sunlight. It may be his body, but it is clear that behind the eyes does not reside JACK KLINE.]

* * *

(sam winchester has only met chuck shurley once in his life. dean winchester and castiel, twice.

the problem with nephilim (as outlined by the archangel gabriel, circa fifteen years anno domini—a stance he has since, actually, mostly reneged on), is that they’re goddamn ticking time bombs just _waiting_ to go off. the mix of angel grace—especially _archangel_ grace, which in itself may as well be a six-hundred-proton radioactive element—and an especially bright human soul is a sodium-water chemical reaction on a grand scale, and the inevitable explosion can come at the drop of a hat.

this “explosion” manifests in one of two ways. first, they can just go nuclear, releasing a massive burst of destructive power—it’s often triggered by a fight for the nephil’s life, and they share this trait with true angels, the difference being that it may or may not kill the nephil in question, while such an event almost always coincides with either the death or ascension of a true angel.

second, though, and much rarer, the nephil’s fragile grace can react negatively with their human soul, causing it to implode. this results in a localized power vacuum centered on the nephil in question, who proceeds to absorb any loose energy in the immediate area. 

this event has the danger of killing the nephil, as it’s possible for them to absorb more power than their soul can reasonably handle or control, but what makes this event particularly dangerous is the fact that this presents the perfect opportunity for a foreign entity to enter the nephil.

nephilim are not angels, they do not take vessels. a nephil’s body _is_ their vessel—they’re born like humans, change like humans. two angels or demons cannot take the same vessel, but a demon or an angel—or an angel-like being— _can_ take a sufficiently powerful nephil as their vessel.

becky rosen still has no idea that she has never actually met chuck shurley.)

* * *

[We cut to the wireless inkjet printer in the corner of the room, which sits just a bit precariously on the far corner of a high table. It begins to whir, and we realize that other than the sound of the keyboard, it is the only noise in the entire scene thus far.]

[The sound of typing stops. The TYPIST, who is no longer a typist, but is now (and always has been) the AUTHOR, stands up—and even though they push in their chair and close the laptop, nothing makes a sound. The scene is utterly silent, aside from the printer.]

[The AUTHOR walks over to the printer—this shot is in profile. They reach out, mindful of the drying ink, and delicately pick up the title page of their newest masterpiece.]

[ **SUPERNATURAL: CARRY ON** , it reads, in bold 48pt Courier New.]

* * *

(a good story always returns to its roots.

well, okay, not really. the author of this particular story would probably tell you that, though. he’s sentimental that way.

“hands-off.” as if.)

* * *

[The AUTHOR, the TYPIST, the person who is _not_ JACK KLINE, reaches into their chest pocket and retrieves a black ballpoint pen. They click it once to reveal the inky tip.]

* * *

(there are fourteen angels currently left alive—not counting a few scattered cupids. their names are anael, asariel, castiel, conrad, eremiel, indra, ingrid, inias, lily, naomi, neil, purah, serafina, and zuriel. 

castiel oversees the billions of souls of heaven. naomi and ingrid handle the bureaucracy. 

indra and eremiel are guards. zuriel and neil are what pass for paper-pushers. 

asariel and inias command the garrison, if it can still be called such.

lily and conrad are imprisoned. serafina, anael, and purah remain on earth.)

* * *

[Somewhere in Hell, the ceiling shakes above ROWENA MCLEOD’s head. Pebbles jar loose, rolling to a stop at her feet.]

[She reaches out to steady herself. She looks up.] 

* * *

(heaven’s generator sputters.)

* * *

[Below the title of their manuscript, on the still-warm piece of printer paper, the AUTHOR writes in a familiar hand; _by Carver Edlund_.] 

[They underline it twice.]

* * *

(nothing’s over until it’s over.)

* * *

[The screen goes black.]

[The final credits roll.]

* * *

(somewhere, somehow, everywhere and nowhere, becky rosen has a nightmare.

she wakes, hair a mess, cold sweat rolling down her temples. the alarm clock next to her reads _2:47 am_.

she reaches over to the laptop on her nightstand, movements jerky, like a puppet on too-short strings. she opens it, and feverishly begins to write.)

* * *

[The story carries on.]

**Author's Note:**

> i'm a genuine prophet becky truther i think it'd be simultaneously really funny and really REALLY fucked up if after donatello dies or whatever she starts having nightmares about this shitty book series she used to be into and is like FUCK!!!!!! WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!


End file.
